You used to think James was it for you.

The kind of love that burned so bright it could never go out. You imagined the two of you growing up together, building a life full of laughter and chaos and too many cups of tea in the mornings.

But forever turned out to be shorter than you thought.

When James told you it was over, that he loved Lily, it felt like the world had shifted just slightly off its axis. You smiled and told him you understood, but the crack in your voice gave you away.

And now, years later, here you are. Sitting in the very last row of his wedding.

You shouldn’t have come. You knew that. Every step toward the chapel felt like reopening an old wound, but when the invitation arrived, written in Lily’s elegant handwriting, something in you couldn’t say no. Maybe it was closure. Maybe it was self-punishment. Maybe it was love, stubborn and unyielding even now.

The room is bathed in soft golden light, filled with the hum of whispered excitement. Lily looks radiant, every bit the woman you always knew James would fall for. James himself stands at the altar, hair only slightly tamed, that same reckless grin on his face as when he used to look at you.

It hurts. God, it hurts. But it’s beautiful, too. You keep your eyes on the floor, tracing the pattern of the tiles, trying to ignore the hollow thud of your own heartbeat.

Then Lily starts saying her vows, voice trembling just slightly, filled with warmth and truth, and that’s when James looks up.

And finds you.

For one suspended second, the noise around you fades. His eyes lock on yours, brown and bright and still so devastatingly familiar.

Your heart skips, your breath catches, and you force yourself not to look away.